[center][h1][color=dimgray]Caractacus[/color][/h1][/center]
Caractacus stared at the lake still, not moving to acknowledge Alberich. [color=dimgray]"Death has claimed them. They are no more than corpses."[/color] Caractacus spoke steadily, without the tremble that so often affected his voice. [color=dimgray]"I will not quit myself of them."[/color] He could not release the zombies. Not now that he needed them most. He needed them to serve as bulwark against the fish-men of the lake.

The zombies were prowling, watching for murlocs. None had come up, but Caractacus knew they would not suffer the presence of him and his undead for long. The woodsman continued with compromises and treatises, trying to coax him into dropping his defenses. [color=dimgray]"I will kill these murlocs. And then, perhaps, I will release the villagers."[/color] Caractacus had made no promise, but perhaps enough to assuage the woodsman somewhat. He did not want a distraction about when the murlocs showed. Still, Alberich continued, offering up the murlocs as replacements, as though they could protect him here and now. [color=dimgray]"Unless you plan on joining me in this fight, I suggest you return to shore."[/color] 

As he spoke Caractacus spotted ripples in the water, far out in the lake. He smiled a cruel, hateful smile, and planted his staff in the mud of the lake. Muttering incantations, he gathered the zombies, and awaited the coming bloodshed.